WEDNESDAY, JULY 28, 2021
HERMISTONHERALD.COM • A9
Yo-yo champion of Arroyo
Seco playground
There were not a lot of
entertainment options for
11-year–old boys in 1957.
Sure, we were living in
Los Angeles (Highland Park,
actually) home of Disney,
big dreams and Stage 3 smog
alerts, but there was not much
day-to-day excitement com-
ing from the world’s entertain-
ment capital. The music charts
were dominated by snoozers
like Pat Boone, Paul Anka and
Andy Williams. Our black
and white TV off ered such
compelling fare as “Father
Knows Best” and “The Real
McCoys.” Elvis and “Amer-
ican Bandstand” still were
down the road, and the Dodg-
ers were playing in Brooklyn.
With so much idle time and
so few diversions, it is small
wonder that I and a small cadre
of friends chose a seldom-trav-
eled path littered with poten-
tial heartbreak, frustration and
disappointment.
For us, it was the yo-yo.
The yo-yo of 1957 bore
little resemblance to the
gyro-fantastic models of
today. It was just two pieces
of rounded wood connected
to three feet of string, but in
the hands of a gifted show-
man, the results could be spec-
tacular. One Sunday night I
watched the “Ed Sullivan
Show” with my family as a
world-renowned “yo-yo-ist”
(which I am still not sure is
a word) stunned the audience
with a jaw-dropping display
of whirling wood and sizzling
string.
As an athletically chal-
lenged, nearsighted geek I
thought — “I can do that.”
Monday at school I shared
my dream with three close
friends — Larry Lehigh,
Tom Byerly and Danny Hall.
Driven by equal parts curios-
ity and boredom, the freshly
formed quartet immediately
traveled to Tanner’s Toy
Town where we purchased
four yo-yos in four diff erent
colors. (Full disclosure: Tom
picked up the tab since he had
a paper route and our solemn
promises to pay him back.)
The singular hangout in
those days was the Arroyo
Seco Playground, where
young guys from the neigh-
borhood came to partake of
such tempting diversions as
ping pong, checkers and teth-
erball. As our shared addic-
tion snowballed for all things
yo-yo, the four of us soon
focused on little else. Even-
tually, we took to huddling
together behind the handball
courts to avoid the stares and
scorn of our peers. We became
known around the playground
as “the yo-yucks.”
Sadly, there were few out-
lets to express our chosen pas-
sion, but all that changed one
Saturday when a represen-
tative of the Duncan Yo-Yo
Company came to the play-
ground. Duncan was, at the
time, the world leader in the
“sport,” and the company
had chosen the Los Ange-
les parks and recreation sys-
tem as the launching pad for
what it hoped would be a
national competition to fi nd
the best young yo-yo-ists in
the country.
To that end, there would
be competitions at local play-
grounds with appealing prizes
like a trophy, yo-yos and $10
in cash. The playground win-
ners would move on to a city-
wide event and a potential shot
at a national title.
As we listened for all the
details, each of us was think-
ing the same thing: “I am
going to win this, even if I
have to crush my three best
friends in the process.” It
was a day that would mark
the beginning of the end for
“the four yo-yucks.”
With just three weeks to
prepare, each of us dived into
our own unique training reg-
imen. Larry, the mama’s boy,
bulked up on a steady diet
of encouragement and sugar
cookies from Mrs. Lehigh.
Tom, the recluse, went to his
room where no one quite knew
if he was practicing or just tak-
ing a lot of “naps.” Danny, the
juvenile delinquent, temporar-
ily quit bullying fourth grad-
ers and threw all his anger and
daddy issues into the task.
For myself, I uncharac-
teristically made a commit-
ment to triumph — a decision,
I believe, that has helped to
shape me as a grown-up. Over
the next 21 days, I became
one with my yo-yo, practic-
ing tricks again and again in
front of my mirror with a new-
found fl air I had stolen from
the guy on the “Ed Sullivan
Show.”
The day of the event
arrived and the early rounds
went pretty much as expected.
There were about 20 entrants,
but everyone knew it was
going to come to a smack-
down involving the “four
yo-yucks.” Sure enough,
after an hour of eliminations,
it had become a Four-Friend
Face-Off .
Larry faltered fi rst, due per-
haps to the seven-plus pounds
he had packed on during train-
ing. His attempt at “Walk-
ing the Dog” ran away from
him and he was too slow to
respond. And then there were
three.
Tom reinforced our think-
ing that he had napped through
his training. His version of
“the sleeper” — pretty much
a “Yo-Yo 101” trick — went
to sleep at the bottom of the
string and Tom was powerless
to wake it up. It was down to
Danny and me.
Squaring off with yo-yo in
hand, it was not lost on me
that, if I beat Danny, there was
a real possibility that he would
fall back on old habits and beat
me up every day until school
started. Making a key life deci-
sion, I pushed the fear aside
and focused on the prize.
What happened next
became the stuff of play-
ground patter for the rest of the
summer. Danny and I matched
trick for trick, from compul-
sories like the “creeper” and
“rock the cradle” to the chal-
lenges of the “breakaway” and
“around the world.” Finally, I
stuck a fl awless execution of
“the Eiff el Tower” and Danny
muff ed it, string and yo-yo
draping him ingloriously in
defeat and despair.
And just like that, I was
the “1957 Duncan Yo-Yo
Champion of Arroyo Seco
Playground.”
Regretfully, the four
yo-yucks were never friends
in the same way again. I
claimed my trophy in front
of them, but it did not feel as
good as I thought it would. I
went on to the city champi-
onships and was eliminated
in the fi rst round, ironically
by a bungled “Eiff el Tower.”
And Danny never beat me up
— he just did not speak to me
again until high school.
I used the $10 to pay back
Tom.
And I still have the trophy.
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ANYONE CAN WRITE
Nearly 40 years in the business have taught me that readers
are bombarded and overwhelmed with facts. What we long
for, though, is meaning and a connection at a deeper and
more universal level.
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